


phenomena

by solitariusvirtus



Series: AU! Concepts [11]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-05-05
Updated: 2018-05-05
Packaged: 2019-05-02 14:07:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,278
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14546358
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/solitariusvirtus/pseuds/solitariusvirtus
Summary: “It boggles the mind.” The finger dripping blood over the fine scales of a long-calcified egg trembled ever so slightly. “Aegon, I don’t think this is working.”AU!





	phenomena

 

 

 

“It boggles the mind.” The finger dripping blood over the fine scales of a long-calcified egg trembled ever so slightly. “Aegon, I don’t think this is working.” The young woman nevertheless kept position, something akin to fear in her eyes as she watched the pacing youth.

“Hush, Rhaenys.” Such harsh command had the desired effect as the girl’s lips clamped shut even if the fear in her eyes morphed to annoyance. “Of course it won’t hatch of you insist on screeching like fishwife during market day. Her face flushed with repressed indignation.

“My arm is growing tired,” she insisted nevertheless in a softer voice.

To see them together, one should never guess they were in truth brother and sister. For they were indeed kin by blood, sharing both father and mother. For all that every feature was distinctive, the two having split between them the likeness of their parents. Rhaenys with her slim figure and dark colouring complemented Aegon with his Targaryen looks and subsequent obsessions. And much like the mother she resembled, Rhaenys saw little to interest herself with in the many schemes her kin produced in order to see the return of the dragons.

And like the father he so resembled, Aegon became more and more interested in these matters as he gained years. Thus he short his sister a fairly venomous look, insisting that she keep her arm in its place and not make a single move. “You will frighten the dragon away,” he warned.

She glanced down at the egg, resisting the urge to coo at the creature within. If she gave away she took the situation no more serious than she did the disappearances of Balerion, he would likely have her head. And she had little desire to stain her skirts. The Myrish lace was made up of threads of gold. It would be such a pity to spoil it. Blood did not wash well from such delicate creations.

“But my arm hurts.” This second complaint earned her a few choice words from the young man before her.

Fearful to the possible repercussions and certain her words would be heeded at some point.

  

 

 

 

“Such a task is on the cusp of impossibility,” their father admitted with a slight smile upon his lips. Rhaegar Targaryen was nothing if not decided, however, and Aegon could not give up before the man for the simple lack of pleasing results. “And your sister has only so much blood to spare,” the man chided gently.  “You will not ask further sacrifice from her.”

“Yes, father.” She hadn’t even lost that much blood. But then his sister loved nothing better than to complain. She refused to understand the inevitability of sacrifice in regards to the greater good. That aside, he needed to write to Maester Aemon. Surely the man had some advice to give.

“Just as well then, for I’ve something else to occupy your time with.” At that he looked up. “I’ve decided it is time to bring your brother to us.” There was no need to ask to whom he referred. Aegon suppressed a sigh. Jon had visited before. He still recalled the sting of his well-placed blows in the yard. “You may also visit with Aemon, if you so desire.”

“When can I leave?” he hoped he betrayed little of the enthusiasm coming to life at the mention of the old maester. If father was occasionally ignorant as to the more tender feelings engendered by his actions, he knew nevertheless how to balance the more blatant ones so as to soften any blows.

“In due time. “

Now if only he could convince father that he needed Rhaenys along. “Would my sister no benefit from such a journey as well. You know how she adored Lady Catelyn.” Brilliant, he would not have to see neither hair nor hide of those two if they were occupied with one another.

“Your sister needs her rest.”

Aegon shrugged, already forming plans to try again on the morrow.   

 

 

 

“You mustn’t,” his mother insisted, the soft lines around her mouth deepening along with her frown. Jon glowered, fighting to keep a lid upon his temper. “Your cousin did not mean any insult.” Be that as it may, his desire to wring Lady Sansa’s neck did not abate under the effect of such wise words. “She is just a child, Jon.”

“She is a ridiculously stuck-up twit with no more sense than a feather.” The biting words brought a smile to the woman’s lips, but she nevertheless shushed him. “And I refuse to allow her to continue insulting me.”

“Now, now, what do you wish to do? Challenge her to a duel?” Unfortunately, the sense of her words reached him before he could put his plans in motion. “Better that we go for a ride.” The suggestion was met with a wall of silence. “Just the two of us.”

“What of your head cold?” He could not deny he had missed their time together.

“A little bit of cold air shan’t affect me,” she laughed. Jon wondered at the truth of the assessment. She was not quite as strong as she liked to present herself. Although he had to admit, the flush from her skin had faded and she did not cough any longer. That had to speak for her recovery.

Before he could make a stronger argument, their little corner was invaded by one of his uncle’s children. Bran Stark grabbed onto his arm, tugging with all his might. “Are we going riding?” His unrestrained enthusiasm cut through the carelessly brusque response Jon had been about to make. That and the narrow glance his mother made certain to level at him.

“Indeed.” Bran beamed up at them. “Mother was just saying how she wished to.”

“I shall need my cloak.” And off he went.

 

 

 

“This would be the perfect time to allow me to take the road to the Wall.” Knowing his brother, Jon would end up filling buckets long before the visit was at an end. And if his brother was willing to spill blood in company then the gods only knew what he’d do on his own turf. Having conceived of that much this early, he was scrambling to find an excuse to avoid his brother like the metaphorical plague he was.

His mother, one eyebrow raised in perpetual question and unrelenting interest, did not relinquish her letter as she asked after his objections to spending time with his brother. Jon sputtered. “Are you not at all worried about me?”

“That is rather exaggerated,” she commented. “Your brother should arrive by the end of the turn. “I expect you will be glad to know he does intent to stop at the Wall before he makes for King’s Landing.” A small smile appeared on her slightly parted lips. “Jon, your father misses you and has sent your brother.” His mother looked as though she expected something from him. In all honesty, he did not know what to say. He did not miss his father or King’s Landing.

In fact, he wished he could feasibly refuse the invitation. Yet faced with his mother, the confession stuck to the back of his throat never quite made it to his lips; he could do little but give a small nod. “As you say, lady mother.” Jon reached out for the letter, taking the missive from his mother’s hands. He allowed himself to read a few lines wondering at the apparent placidity his mother exhibited in relation to the man. In her stead, he would have had a fit. Nonetheless, he had to admit she showed good sense in so far as he was concerned.

 

 

 


End file.
